Of Monsters and Men
by scribbled.ink
Summary: Twelve are chosen. Twelve will save us. Twelve will be our heroes. Truth is, no one wants to be chosen. No one believes we can be saved. We are not heroes, we will die in the failed process. You can beg and try to escape, but you will die. The chosen always die. This year, I was chosen. Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

Wallace West. Vera month One No.16 Region 2

Garfield Logan. Vera month Two No.28 Region 7

Artemis Crock. Vera month Three No.20 Region 1

Cassie Sandsmark. Vera month Four No.26 Region 3

Karen Beecher. Vera month Five No.13 Region 10

Tim Drake. Vera month Six No.19 Region 5

Conner Kent. Vera month Seven No.4 Region 8

Jack Sy Cotic Vera month Eight No.1 Region 4

Barbara Gordon. Vera month Nine. No.23. Region 11

Megan Morzz. Vera month Ten No.9 Region 6

Jaime Reyes. Vera month Eleven No.8 Region 9

Dick Grayson. Vera month Twelve No.1 Region 12

…

Region 1

Every night- every day, for them, it was always the same.

Wake up.

Opening my eyes, I grimaced as the sun hit my face through the shudders. I pulled the blanket over my head, Shielding myself from the world. My windows were open, and the sun began to start it's cycle in the sky. Heat sunk into the black quilt, and began to burn my skin. Hissing in pain, I threw the quilt off, and paced over to my closet.

Prepare.

Opening the bamboo styled door, I grabbed an insulated long sleeve skin tight desert red turtle neck. Throwing my combat jacket on after that, I slipped on light green insulated skin tight leather pants, and my brown combat boots. Afterwards, I sheathed my knifes and pulled my hair back in a high ponytail, letting my blonde hair fall.

I sat up, and checked the thermometer on the wall next to the window.

128 Degrees Fahrenheit. I frowned- at least it was cooler than yesterday. It was always hotter than the other regions here. Taking the green pen dangling on the side of the thermometer, I marked off the date on the calendar. It was Vera month Three, day 20. My twenty first birthday. Sighing, I stood up and walked out of my simple bedroom, and down the wooden stairs. The metal soles of my shoes echoed throughout the house, not that I minded. Everyone was up anyway. It was rule. Walking into the kitchen, I opened the cupboards and pulled out the nutrients.

Pulling a blue tab, a small cup inside the bottle revealed four small pills. Each one had been labeled 'bananas', 'oatmeal,' 'strawberries,' and 'milk.'

Eat.

Grabbing a glass, I filled it with water. I walked over the couch and sat down. Pulling out my knife from my sheath, I stared at it.

"Happy Birthday," a voice called out. Looking up, I saw my older sister, Jade, with her mangled black hair as messy as ever. Her beady eyes glared at me, full of sarcasm. I sighed deeply, throwing my knife into the wall to my left.

"Don't remind me," I mumbled bitterly.

After my parents had committed treason a few years back, they were commended to death. Now, it was just me and Jade.

"Why so sad?" She asked me, her voice dripping hot mockness.

"You know why." My birthday.

"Well at least we get off of work today. Another day in those training arenas and I might just kill someone," she stated calmly.

"I don't doubt it." Looking away, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it a light squeeze.

"It's already seven am. Just seventeen hours, and it's over. You have a one in a five hundred thousand chance of being picked this year. It's not going to happen-" A knock on the door interrupted her words. We both shot our heads towards the sound, and I could have sworn it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We both gulped loudly, and the same thoughts were probably running through her head as they were through mine. _Its the Sentencers. _

"It's- it's probably just Cameron or someone, here to pick us up." I stood, and followed my sister to the door. The metal of the doorknob felt like lava even in the late winter air, but I brushed it off. Opening it cautiously, I was met with a gruff man- maybe six feet tall. His hair was black, and slightly curled towards the front. He had on a leather skin tight white shirt, with white skin tights jeans. His helmet was in his hand, and his gun was holstered at his dark blue eyes held kindness, but I wasn't fooled. This was not a kind man. This was a Sentencer. He cleared his throat.

"Hello. My name is Clark Kent. I was called here for a-" he looked down at his glove, which held a holographic notepad, "Artemis Crock of the Palawan? Correct?" Me and Jade nodded our heads. "Perfect. It is a letter, sent from President Luthor himself. You should be honored." His voice suddenly changed to a sneer. Jabbing an envelope at me, I took it. He turned to leave down the steps, and we watched him leave.

The second he left, we slammed the door closed and ran the couch. Jumping onto it, Jade squeezed next to me, silently urging me to open the letter. I slid my thumb across the seal, opening it. A million thoughts went flying through me head, and time seemed to slow down. I felt myself pull out the slim piece of paper, and inside my mind I was screaming 'stop! don't do it!'

No matter what I said to myself, I began to unfold the paper, and as I read it, I felt tears stream down my face. Jade hugged me, and I felt her cry into my shoulder. I couldn't move, I couldn't respond. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. None of this was real. For on the paper was a single word. A simple six letters that made my insides cringe. On that paper, was the word,

CHOSEN.

…

Region 12

Every day I wake up, every time I breathe another breath, one thought stays in my mind.

Survive.

I am alone. Isolated. We are the forgotten region. We are never trained, never taught. We are born, and stay in the barracks until our tenth birthday. Then we are released into the Region.

We have the smallest population. Only four hundred of us are left. I am one of them. We were eat left in the wilderness, with a small house and weapons. Our people are contagious, we are looked at as the worthless. We were supposed to be murdered at birth, to end the Region, but instead, the government decided to isolate us, and let us try and survive until of age. That is, if we survive to our twentieth birthday. On that day, the Government is sent out to look for us and kill us. If you survive, you are led into civilization. If you kill someone before they are twenty, you are awarded will tools to survive. I am nineteen today. One more year. Maybe I will die today, maybe today will be the last.

Survive.

I hate this life. I want to quit.

Survive.

Maybe I can escape.

Survive.

Every birthday before your twentieth, the Government comes to ask you if you want to be chosen. They give us a choice. They don't care which of us goes to the experiment. No one ever says yes. We would be walking to our deaths. It is almost noon, and the Government has not come.

I sat in a large tree, full of leaves ( the crops and plants and wildlife grow each day every month. We have one season- spring.) and hid myself from view. My knives were ready if any other Isoleren came. I would kill them this time.

Survive.

That was a lie. I never kill. I don't. I can't. I simply stay up high and hide. A rustling from the bushes by the tree was heard, and I perfected my stance and began my aim. A Government worker? A survivor? Animals- food? A man in his mid twenties emerged, in a dark gray uniform.

"Richard Grayson? I am aware of your position in the tree. You are nineteen years of age, and, at President Luther's request, we hope you say yes to the choosing." He did not turn to face me, but I knew exactly what was going on.

Did they seriously want me to say yes? Did they honestly want me to shout yes and be sent to a certain death? But- perhaps this could be my escape.

Perhaps this death would be my ticket out of this horrid life.

Survive.

I was tired of surviving.

"Yes."

I was the first one to ever say yes.

…

Region 0- Government

President Lex Luthor stood in front of the five thousand people in Government.

"As you are aware, each year, one person from each Region is chosen based on performance and lifestyle. Regions 1 through 11 are chosen, in no years previously have we had a 12 chosen, until now." Cheers erupted from the Government as Luthor paused for emphasis. "They will travel to the other side of Vera were a portal will wait and they will be transported to another world, to see if we can survive and thrive elsewhere. May I present our twelve soldiers!" The crowd cheered loudly as the twelve youth came on a screen behind Luthor. "We have chosen these youth strictly because they are the descendants to the humans who put us on this horrid world as our old one could not be stabilized. Wish them luck, for perhaps this year, we will be able to return to a much easier world, we will not be defeated!"

…

**Okay, yes or no to this idea? I thought of it and I kind of just wrote it down quickly. Does this sound interesting, or should I abandon the idea? PLease tell me because I don't want to write something that is crappy and that no one will read. Be honest! If you have ideas or you like the concept, or you don't, review and PM me so I can know! Thanks! I love you all! ~Babs :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hello, i'm back. :D Also, this was un beta-ed so if it sucks, that's on m. :/**

* * *

Wally West sighed, combing his hands through his wet, shaggy red hair. Looking in the mirror the small bathroom provided, he gripped the edges of the sink and stared at the reflection of what was supposed to be him. At the factories, he had never seen, let alone used, a mirror before, and had to settle with looking into the shiny metal to keep in memory what he looked like. The metal scraps he used before were bent, and warped. He had never seen himself fully without having a curved face or an enormously wide or long head. Now, here he was, in a perfectly clean, spacious, pristine bathroom with hot running water and nice mirrors.

This was all so new. And it felt wrong. He was supposed to be working back in his region in the factories, greasy hands tossing metal which way and that. He should have been sitting on a wooden bench for a bed, drinking dirty water from the lake, taking baths in freezing showers once a month, and wearing the worn out clothes he had grown accustomed too. He was supposed to be eating dinner at an old table with his Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry, talking about the latest accidents in the assembly lines.

He wasn't supposed to be standing here, perfectly clean and bathed, in a steamy bathroom with actual hand soap by the faucet and a real mirror in front of him. He had never known he had green eyes. Sure, people had told him, but in the dim lit factories, he could never make out his little details in his reflection.

But now, for the first time in his life, after twenty one years, he saw his green eyes. The glint of light and the emerald glow they held- they were magnificent. They were his. They were Wally's. They were the eyes of a traitor.

He had betrayed his friends-his family. He had willingly left them, for a life of riches and warmth, and endless food and different clothes everyday.

He was the first child to be born in his month, which meant, when his eighteenth birthday arrived, he was face with the choice to leave behind his life of poverty and sickness and death for a better life, inside the walls; where he would never be scared or sad again. They told him it was the best choice. They told him that he would make new friends, find a new family. They told him he would be happy.

Looking back, the last memory before his departure flashed across his mind.

His aunt and uncle stood there, smiling and hugging him, kissing him and rejoicing at the chance he had received and they never got. Wally, dressed in his best clothes, albeit still rather crude compared to the guard standing beside him, who wore the finest red Wally had ever seen, latched onto Iris' small frame, and sobbed into her shoulder. She, softly, whispered in his ear how proud she was of him.

"You, Wally, have done more for me in the few years you've stayed with us, then even God could. I'm so proud. I'm so proud," she had said to him. "Don't be scared, don't be afraid; you're going to do great things. You're going to do so many things that I never could. Maybe you'll find some 'babe' who can make you a dad someday, and hopefully fold our clothes." Wally let out a breathy laugh into the crook of her neck, and blinked away the tears. It was then, that one of the guards, who was tall and had shaved his head, tapped his shoulder.

"Mr. West, if you could, please; the train will be leaving soon."

Unwillingly, Wally let go, and gave a soft smile at his two guardian's before his Uncle Barry gave one last quick hug and winked at the ginger. The twinkle in his eyes made Wally smile sadly- he would miss it; he would miss this - his home.

"Bye, Uncle Barry. Bye, Aunt Iris," he said, waving his hand swiftly, before turning and following suit the large man, whose name he learned was Brent. After he had boarded the train, he managed to slip away from Brent long enough to sneak one final look out the window.

There, on the street, solely stood his Iris, clinging to Barry's shirt whilst crying. Uncle Barry had an arm around her back, and Wally could clearly see the tears in his eyes as well.

It was then Wally realized- what would happen to them without him?

God, he had been so insensitive.

But this time, he would make things right. He was going to be successful, he would become a hero. He was going to make Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry proud; he would.

Nodding to himself firmly, he exited the bathroom. Outside in the hall, were two guards, one to his right that he recognized as Brent, and on his left was another who seemed unfamiliar. They stood across each other, both in the center at each end of the hall. This other guard has really, really curly brown hair. His nose was really pointy, and he reminded Wally of his commanding officer at the factory named Lee. So, deciding it would be easiest to remember him by that persona, he quickly added 'Lee' to the man's description.

Lee raised an eyebrow when he noticed Wally's staring, but didn't say anything otherwise, so Wally decided to walk towards him. The hallway was longer than he had originally thought, probably longer than a freaking mountain, so he decided to take his time when walking. Staring directly at curly haired Lee, he walked, and walked, and walked. He didn't know why, but when Wally was walking towards Lee, slowly and with a creepy stare, the look Lee gave as a response was quite hilarious.

Hilarious.

Wally hadn't had much fun wince he was chosen. Before hand, he would play pranks on his peers all the time. But time passed, and they got different roles in the community and then Wally was chosen and boom- no more ridiculous nonsense. Aunt Iris always said his best quality was his sense of humor... and he doubted no one else was joyed at leaving home.

So Wally decided that on this trip, he would be the one to make things okay. He would be there for everyone, like Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry always were.

He would do that, as simply as it was, for them. He _needed_ to do it for them.

* * *

"Name?" He didn't sound very polite, the guard at the door. So, Tim doubted that he could trick him and escape back home. _Home_. With mother and father, who were always to busy for him. Home sucked, but it was better than... than this. Wait- was it? Was home better than this? Was his parents constant hatred towards him and ignoring parenting better than being chosen, and coming here? Tim hated home. But... maybe he could make this work.

"Timothy Drake." What else was he supposed to say? President Luthor? He almost snorted at the thought; yeah, if he wanted to freaking die.

"You one of the 'special' kids?"

"Uhm," was he talking about the mission? If so then, "Yeah, I guess. No one really refers to us as-" before Tim could finish his statement, though, he was rather rudely interrupted.

"Attendance to meeting accepted." Ugh. This guy was rude. But calling him out for interrupting would be disrespectful. And disrespecting Government officials was punishable by imprisonment.

So, instead of being rude, Tim opted to say "Thank you," instead.

Of course, all he got was a grunt in return.

The man, who was tall and stocky, stepped aside as the door behind him slid open. Taking a slow, short step forward, he peered inside.

The room was big. Probably bigger than his house, even, and very bland. The walls were a sickly metallic gray and the dark, carpeted floor didn't exactly match. In the center of the room was a table with... say fifteen seats, and chairs matching the walls placed around it. At the table were five other people.

One red head, who looked older than the others, who was smiling and joking with another person. Said person -who also had red hair, but on a darker note- was slouched over the table, laughing, and looked even younger than Tim. Some girl with impossibly long blonde hair sat with her feet on the table and her hand entwined with the older red head. Two girls, one about Tim's age was giggling about who knows what, while the older dark skinned one enthusiastically told her something.

When Tim was pushed on the back, probably by the rude guard, he stumbled into the room and the door slammed shut behind him.

All movement stopped, and all eyes turned towards him.

He gulped.

"Uhm... hi. I'm Tim," the girl about his age smiled at him, and he instantly stressed. Did his voice crack? Why wasn't anyone saying anything? His voice cracked, didn't it? It's too awkward to say something, so they won't. Oh crap. Oh crap on a stick, this was so _embarrassing_.

Thankfully, the really young jumped down on the table and up to him. "Hi Tim!" He said, beaming, and tugged on Tim's hand, leading him further into the room.

"I'm Garfield. That's Wally and Artemis, they're dating. And that's Karen and Cassie. Karen has short black hair and Cassie's a blonde," he informed, and, not knowing what to do, Tim decided to nod in return. Gar continued on, though. "So, my birthday's a 2, so I've been for 4 months, 'cuz right now it's a 6. Wally's a 1, so he's stayed here longer than anyone else. Karen's a 5, Cassie's a 4, and Artemis is a 3. You get to stay here and hang out for a while, and meet us!"

"Gar, with you giving him your whole life story over there, I doubt he needs to _meet_ us," the red head- Wally, he name was Wally- smirked, and the blonde bombshe- Cassie- laughed.

"Well, I just thought he should know! Hey, so when's your exact birthday? And how old are you? I turned thirteen when I was chosen."

Karen shook her head, and stood up from her seat on the floor, next to the table. "Ignore Gar, he's hyper. Anyway, welcome to the Mountain, kid. That's what we call it; and it's your new home." _Home._

* * *

**Hey guys! It's been a while! **

**So, if your confused, what's happening is Wally's thoughts were when he first come to the 'Mountain.' Each month when someone was chosen, the newest person whoever came and stayed there until the next came, and the next and the next. So Tim's thoughts are right after he was chosen, and he's meeting everyone. Tim is now going to stay here until the next person (which according to my list is Conner) shows up, and the Conner will stay with them and so forth.** **Review please, and thanks for reading!**


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